


Bit by Bit

by galoots



Series: Loots Duck Universe (LDU) [3]
Category: Disney Duck Universe, Disney Ducks (Comics)
Genre: Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Puberty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25255384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galoots/pseuds/galoots
Summary: To Donald's great and everlasting horror, he begins that dreaded process known to man as... puberty.
Relationships: Donald Duck & Duckworth, Donald Duck & Scrooge McDuck
Series: Loots Duck Universe (LDU) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1318364
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Bit by Bit

The world was ending. He was certain of it.

Buried under a heavy duvet, in a dark cave of his own making, Donald despaired. It was stuffy under the covers, but he dared not venture towards the light.

He was dying after all.

Or, at least, he _thought_ he was.

His once bright yellow downy coat had been dulling of late. Nothing Donald had paid any notice to, nor possessed the mind to worry over. Yet this very evening, he had discovered, to his great horror, that a clump of down had fallen out. He’d stared in horror at the clump in his hand for ages. His eyes couldn’t leave the sight of it. Foreign. Once a part of him, rendered alien and inert. He couldn’t bring his eyes to observe the place the feathers had previously occupied.

He had to be ill. Horribly, terminally ill. Clearly, this wasn’t normal.

With sweaty hands, Donald fumbled for his flashlight’s switch. The beam of light trembled as his hand shook. The beam carved a slow, arduous path towards the spot he’d lost the down. Illuminated, Donald could see a bare spot of pink skin. The flesh was mottled, and something grew out of it.

To Donald’s eyes, the thing looked malignant. A tumor perhaps, or an alien egg ready to hatch. He pinched the thing and attempted to pull it out. He winced as he tugged on it. It hurt.

He was on the verge of tears. Why was this happening to him? He was a good little duckling. He said his please and thank you’s. He completed his homework on time. Well, he _usually_ did. He didn’t fight with his parents or bicker with his classmates, so why oh why did he deserve such misfortune such as this? One moment he was your average duckling, living a normal life, then all of a sudden, he had a monster sprouting from his skin.

A soft rapping on his bedroom door jolted him from his misery.

“Don’t come in!” He cried.

“Donald?” A muffled voice asked, “Is everything alright?”

Donald buried his beak into his pillow, praying with every inch of his being that the world would go away.

The door creaked open. Soft footsteps made their way towards his bed.

“Donald? Are you alright?” The mattress dipped as Scrooge sat upon it. “We called you for family game night, but you didn’t come down.”

Donald pulled his blanket vise-like around himself. “I’m fine! Go away!”

Scrooge hesitated. That was not the sound of a duckling who was fine. He recognized its shaky warble and fear-soaked edges. He placed a gentle hand on the lump hidden beneath blankets. “What’s the matter, dear?”

Tears, hot pinpricks against his eyelids, threatened to spill out. “I’m dying!”

“What?”

Donald threw back the blankets that shielded him and thrust his arm into Uncle Scrooge’s face. Tears streamed down his face. He spoke with a hysterical speed that made his words run together. “Aclumpofmydownfellout’nthere’ssomethingweirdgrowingoutofmyskinandit’suglyandithurtsandI’mdyi-ING!”

Scrooge adjusted his glasses as he examined Donald’s arm. From the bald spot where there’d once been down, the shaft of a pin feather emerged. “You’re not dying.”

Donald sniffled. “I’m not?”

Scrooge stroked Donald’s arm. “No, darling. It’s the beginning of your first moult! See?” He pointed at the pin feather poking its head tentatively from his skin. “A whole new set of feathers is growing in.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means your baby down is falling out to make way for new feathers. Feathers like mine.” A sad little smile crept onto Scrooge’s face. “It means your growing up.”

Donald’s beak trembled. He would have preferred to hear he was dying.

“Didn’t they go over this in health ed class?” Scrooge asked.

“I don’t pay attention in health ed!” Donald yelled, throwing his arms up in frustration. “I hate it! How do I make it change back?”

Scrooge blinked owlishly at him. “You can’t?”

Donald did not like to hear that. He threw himself flat upon his rumpled bedsheets and pounded his fists against his comforter. “I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!” He thrashed against his covers like a fish pulled violently out from the water.

Scrooge tutted. “You can’t change it, darling. It’s a part of growing up.” He patted his nephew’s back. “It’s inevitable.”

Unfortunately for Donald, this was one thing a temper tantrum could _not_ fix.


End file.
